


Silver

by Spoonzi



Series: Harry Potter Bingo [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco Malfoy Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, F/M, Harry Potter Bingo, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Patronus, Polyamory, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23274898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoonzi/pseuds/Spoonzi
Summary: Draco’s hands still shake when he holds his wand.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Harry Potter Bingo [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1673605
Comments: 3
Kudos: 81
Collections: Harry Potter Bingo





	Silver

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my patronus square :)
> 
> Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling

Draco’s hand still trembles when he holds his wand. Shakes when he raises it in the air. He can’t cast lumos without his voice shaking. He can’t cast a simple summoning charm or levitation charm without his arm feeling heavier than lead. 

The wand isn’t the problem. It works as well as ever and casts beautifully in Harry and Hermione’s capable hands. It’s not the wand that’s the problem, it’s him. It’s what he did with it. The awful evil things he did wielding his wand that makes him hate himself and the glorified twig. 

The red and green spells. The battlefield filled with bodies. The horrified faces. The things he sees at night in his sleep are the problem. The waking from those dreams to Hermione’s soothing, scratchy voice and Harry’s broad, careful hands isn’t. 

He makes tea the muggle way now. He learns to cook with his hands from Harry. He learns how to clean without his wand from Hermione. Because he can’t pick up his wand some days for fear of it burning through the skin of his hands. 

He knows he’ll have to learn to hold his wand again before Hogwarts is finished being rebuilt. He knows he needs to be able to cast before they start their eighth year. He knows the problem is him no matter what his loves say. So he tries. On days he can pick up his wand with only tremors in his hands, he practices all day and into the night. He tries over and over again for the simplest spells even if sometimes the colors make him flinch back and drop the wand altogether.

He cries sometimes when that happens, knelt in the middle of Grimmauld Place’s library with his shaking palms pushed against his eyes. He often comes back to four arms secured around him. To Hermione’s lips kissing away his tears. To Harry murmuring comfort and kindness in his ear. 

The first time he’s able to complete a spell they are knelt on the floor like this. Harry on one side of him sure and steady. Hermione on the other, calm and comforting. He clutches his wand and uses the love and happiness he feels with them among all the depression and he just speaks without really intending for it to work. 

The large silver lion that bounds out of the end of his wand lights up the candle-dim room with its glow. The three stare at its magnificence in awe as it shakes, tossing its head every which way before settling in the air, kneading it’s paws like a common house cat. The lion looks at the three coolly from its perch upon the air. 

Harry lifts the elder wand breaking out of his stupor first to send his stag trotting into the air as well. It circles the lion butting it’s antlers against the beast playfully and dancing around him excitable and happy. It much reminds him of how Harry gets after quidditch at the burrow when Draco and Hermione are trying to relax. 

The girl in question works her wand out of her robe pocket as well and casts with a flourish. Her otter patronus seems to almost tumble out of her wand rolling through the air narrowly avoiding the stag’s elegant legs and stopping in front of the lion. The three silver animals nose at each other familiarizing themselves before the two calmer patronuses finally settle the stag and they all disappear. 

“How?” His other halves question him almost immediately after nearly in sync. 

He doesn’t take his eyes away from his wand clutched in his still shaking hands. “I was thinking about you…” he whispers his voice filled with love, sorrow, awe, and reverence. 


End file.
